"Nay, nay. The girl was away somewhere, no doubt, for I found the doors locked, and could get no sight of any one. But let me shut this window, the air will be too cold."

There seemed to be some protest, and a good-natured dispute, in which the sick man prevailed, for directly the couch on which he lay was wheeled up to the window, and Ruth caught one glimpse of an eager face looking out.

The girl would have given her life to run up those steps again, and whisper one word to the man whom she felt was watching for her. She did creep out from her covert, and had mounted a step, when Webb spoke again.

"Nay, nay, sir. This will never do. The window must be closed. An east wind is blowing."

A noise of the closing window followed, and with a sigh Ruth shrunk back to her shelter against the wall, disappointed, but trembling all over with the happiness of having seen him.

What cared she for Lady Rose then? Had he not looked into her eyes with the old, fond glance? Had he not reached out his arms in a quick pa.s.sion of delight as she fled from him? Was he not her husband, her own, own husband?

There, in the very midst of her fright, and her newly-fledged joy, the young wife drew the wedding-ring from her bosom, and kissed it, rapturously murmuring:

"He loves me! He loves me! and what else do I care for? Nothing, nothing, in the wide wide, world!"

But in the midst of this unreasoning outburst, poor Ruth remembered the father she had left a wounded prisoner in the cottage, and a spasm of pain shot through her. Ah, if she were sure, if she were only sure that no secret was kept from her there. But it must be right. Some great misunderstanding had arisen to distress her father beyond the pain of his wounds. But when the two beings she most loved on earth were well enough to meet and explain, all would be clear and bright again. Her husband had the letter safe in his hands. She would go home at once, and tell her father that, and afterward steal off alone, and feast on the happiness that made her very breath a joy.

Out, through the rose-thickets, the cl.u.s.tering honeysuckles, and the beds of blooming flowers, Ruth stole, like a bee, overladen with honey, and carried her happiness back to the cottage.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

A STORM AT THE TWO RAVENS.

"Judith Hart, will ye just carry the ale-cans a little more on the balance? Can't ye mind that the foam is dripping like suds over yer hands, and wetting the sand on the floor till it's all in puddles?"

This sharp remonstrance came from the mistress of the house in which Judith was barmaid, and chief attraction. The public-room was crowded that night, not only with its old guests, but by strangers on their way from a neighboring town, where a monthly fair was held. The girl gave her head a toss, as this reprimand pointed out her delinquency, and sat the two ale-cups she carried down upon the nearest table, with a dash that sent both foam and beer running over it in ruddy rivulets.

"If you're not pleased with the way I serve customers, there's plenty more that would be glad of doing it better. I'm not to be clamored at, anyway, so long as there's other places ready for me."

"An' a pretty prize they'd get!" rejoined the landlady, putting her hands a-kimbo, and nodding her head with such angry vehemence, that the borders of her cap rose and fluttered like the feathers of a rageful bantam. "It's all well enough while there's none of the better-to-do sort wanting to be served; but when they come!

Hoity-toity! My lady tosses her head at commoners, and scorns to heed the knock of a workman's can on the table, as if she were a born princess, and he a beggar. I can tell ye what, la.s.s, this wasn't the way I got to be mistress, after serving from a girl at the tap."

"And what if I didn't care that forever being mistress of a place like this!" cried Judith, snapping her fingers over the dripping cups, and shaking her own handsome head in defiance of the fluttering cap, with all it surmounted. "As if I didn't look forward to something better than that, though I have demeaned myself to serve out your stale beer till I'm sick of it."

"Ah! ha! I understand. One can do that with half an eye," answered the irate dame, casting a glance over at young Storms, who sat at one of the tables, sipping his wine and laughing quietly over the contest.

"But have a care of yourself. It may come about that chickens counted in the sh.e.l.l never live to pip."

Judith turned her great eyes full of wrathful appeal on Storms, and burst into a scornful laugh, which the young man answered by a look of blank unconcern.

"You hear her! You hear her, with her insults and her tyrannies; sneering at me as if I was the dirt under her feet!" the girl cried out, stamping upon the sanded floor, "and not one of you to say a word."

"How should we?" said Storms, with a laugh. "It's a tidy little fight as it stands. We are only waiting to see which will get the best of it. Who here wants to bet? I'll lay down half a sovereign on the la.s.s."

As he tossed a bit of gold on the table, Storms gave the barmaid a look over his shoulder, that fell like ice upon her wrath. She shrunk back with a nervous laugh, and said, with a degree of meekness that astonished all in the room, "Now, I will have no betting on me or the mistress here. We are both a bit fiery; but it doesn't last while a candle is being snuffed. I always come round first; don't I now, mistress?"

The good-hearted landlady looked at the girl with open-mouthed astonishment. Her color lost much of its blazing red, her cap-borders settled down with placid slowness. Both hands dropped from her plump waist, and were gently uplifted.

"Did any one here ever see anything like it?" she said. "One minute flaring up, like a house on fire, the next, dead ashes, with any amount of water on 'em. I do think no one but me could get on with the la.s.s. But I must say, if she does get onto her high horse at times, with whip and spur, when I speak out, she comes down beautifully."

"Don't I?" said Judith, with a forced laugh, gathering up her pewter cups. "But that's because I know the value of a kind-hearted mistress--one that's good as gold at the bottom, though I do worry her a bit now and then, just to keep my hand in. If any of the customers should take it on 'em to interfere, he'd soon find out that we two would be sure to fight in couples."

With this pacific conclusion, the girl gathered up a half dozen empty cups by the handles, and carried them into the kitchen. The moment she was out of sight, all her rage came back, but with great suppression.

She dashed the cups down upon a dresser with a violence that made them ring again; then she plunged both hands into the water, as if that could cool the hot fever of her blood, and rubbed the cups furiously with her palm, thus striving to work off the fierce energy of her pa.s.sion, which the studied indifference of Storms had called forth, though its fiercest expression had fallen on the landlady.

"I woke him up, anyway," she thought, while a short, nervous laugh broke from her. "He got frightened into taking notice, and that is something, though he kills me for it. Ah!"

The girl lifted her eyes suddenly, and saw a face looking in upon her through the window. His face! She dropped the cup, dashed the water from her hands, and, opening the kitchen-door, stole out, flinging the white ap.r.o.n she wore over her head.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

A PRESENT FROM THE FAIR.

Storms was waiting for her near the door, where he stood in shadow.

"Well, now, have you come round to take a fling at me?" said the girl, with more of terror than anger in her voice. "If you have, I won't bear it, for you're the one most to blame, coming here again and again, without so much as speaking a word, though ye know well enough how hungry I am for the least bit of notice."

"This way. We are too near the house," said Storms, seizing the girl's arm, and drawing her toward the kitchen-garden, that lay in the rear of the building. "Let us get under the cherry-trees; they cannot see us there."

"I musn't be away long," answered the girl, subdued, in spite of herself. "The mistress will be looking for me."

"I know that; so we must look sharp. Come."

Judith hurried forward, and directly the two stood under the shadow of the cherry-trees sheltered by the closely-growing branches.

"What an impatient scold you are, Judith!" said the young man. "There is no being near you without a fear of trouble. What tempted you, now, to get into a storm with the mistress?"

"You did, and you know it. Coming in, without a look for one, and saying, as if we were a thousand miles apart, 'I say, la.s.s, a pint, half-and-half mild, now.'"

Judith mimicked the young man's manner so viciously that he broke into a laugh, which relieved the apprehensions which had troubled her so much.

"And if I did, what then? Haven't I told you, more than once, that you and I must act as strangers toward each other?"

"But it's hard. What is the good of a sweetheart above the common, if one's friends are never to know it?"

"They are to know when the time comes; I have told you so, often and often. But what is a man to do when his father is hot for him marrying another, and she so jealous that she would bring both the two old men and Sir Noel down on me at the least hint that I was fond in another quarter?"

"But when is it to end? When will they know?"

"Soon, very soon, now. Have patience; a few weeks longer, say, perhaps months, and some day you and I will slip off and be wed safe enough.

Only nothing must be said beforehand. A single word would upset everything. They are all so eager about Jessup's la.s.s."